Collusion
by swifters
Summary: An undercover mission goes wrong, leaving Frank to pick up the pieces.
1. Chapter 1

INTRODUCTION

Stand-alone short story. Bit of an angst-fest.

WARNINGS... Violence and beer-drinking, lots of swearing. Refs to heroin use. Casefiles reality, boys in their 20's.

I wrote this around 10 years ago, way before the two stories I've already put on. It shows its age in the lack of good surveillance equipment (I know it existed but I didn't know about it then) and the inclusion of a touch of police incompetence- not a ploy I like to use anymore. However, I've resurrected the story because I know someone who likes this type of thing…

Happy birthday, signaturefarms! Hope this is the sort of plot you meant….

COLLUSION

CHAPTER 1- THE HARD MAN

Raymond Boggs was in trouble and he knew it. The small-time crook was tied to a chair in a disused warehouse near the docks, where Nobody Could Hear Him Scream. He owed Ed Marley money that he couldn't pay. And now Marley's thugs had him. His eye was already swollen shut, his lip split, two of his fingers broken. He peered at the men around him through his one good eye. The sadistic one was standing on the opposite side of the room now, his back to the hapless man. His fists were clenched tightly and he seemed to be breathing deeply, as though trying to gain control of himself. Marley's three other heavies stood watching their colleague with interest.

One of them, Lomax, the man in charge, turned back to Boggs. He bent down beside him and whispered softly. 'Last chance or we'll let him play with you again. Where. Is. The. MONEY!' The last word was spat in the prisoner's face.

'I….I…..I just don't have it. P..please…I'll get it, honest.' Boggs snivelled.

Lomax stood up and called to the figure on the far side of the room.

'Max….?He's all yours.'

The man turned round slowly. Boggs took one look at him and lost control of his bladder. His expression was cold and murderous. The smirk on his lips promised more pain.

But his face was young and handsome, his eyes bright blue, his hair blond, his face…..his face was that of Joe Hardy.

…

Ten minutes later, Lomax pulled his cellphone out of his pocket. He looked down at Boggs in disgust. Panting and bleeding, the bound man cried pathetically. Lomax turned away from the prisoner, shaking his head. He dialled a number.

'It's Lomax... No, he's not got the money….. Yes boss.'

Joe looked over at Lomax, awaiting instruction.

'Sorry Boggs, the boss ain't feeling too forgiving. Max….. finish him.'

Joe nodded, pulled a gun from his belt and levelled it at Boggs' forehead. Boggs wailed in terror. Joe looked into his eyes, then shook his head and lowered the gun. 'Nah, too easy. I've got something new I want to try.' He dug about in his jeans pocket and pulled out a small brown envelope. He waved it at Lomax. 'Cyanide pill. Never seen how they work. Want a bit of entertainment?'

Lomax frowned, then shrugged. 'Sure, why not.'

Joe kneeled down in front of Boggs. He opened the envelope, then pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and laid it across his palm. He tipped a single pill out onto it. He looked at the little yellow pill carefully for a moment, his expression one of curious anticipation. Then he held his palm up in front of Boggs' face.

'See this, Boggs?' Joe whispered. 'This will make the nerves in your brain short circuit. You'll die in seconds. I hear it's very painful but you just….. can't…... scream!'

Boggs howled, tears running down his face. 'Please, no. I'll do anything. PLEASE.'

Joe stood up and walked slowly around Boggs, stopping behind him. Leaning forwards, Joe grabbed Boggs' nose, squeezing and twisting it hard. He writhed and struggled, trying to hold his breath, but eventually he had to open his mouth. Joe shoved the pill into his mouth, then put his left arm round Boggs' neck, pulling his jaw up and holding it shut. His right hand was in Boggs' greasy hair, pulling his head back.

'Night night, Mr Boggs.' Joe said, coldly. Boggs struggled against his iron grip for a few seconds, then swallowed. He jerked for a minute, panicking, before sagging in Joe's grasp. Joe felt his neck, then straightened up, satisfied. 'Not bad. Bit different. Might have to get myself some more of those….'

'We dumping him?' said Campbell.

Joe snorted. 'He's covered in piss! I'm not touching him. No one's gonna look for the little shit. Let's leave him for the rats.'

Laughing, the men walked out of the warehouse together, leaving Boggs slumped, lifeless, in the chair.

…

Frank Hardy, Joe's dark-haired, dark-eyed older brother, looked intently at his father. Fenton Hardy nodded at him and got to his feet.

'Brennan- can you get men to that warehouse- _low profile_, not sirens blaring. Make sure this gets reported as a murder and get that man shifted out of state until Joe's out. Right?'

Police chief Brennan glared at Fenton. 'I'm not an idiot Hardy. I'm not going to do anything that would endanger him. It'll all be covered.' He got to his feet and marched out of the surveillance suite, leaving father and son alone.

Joe Hardy had been deep undercover in New York for 2 months now, living life as 'Max Sloan'. Police Chief Brennan already had several police operatives at various stages of infiltration into Ed Marley's New York based drugs gang, but all had been kept at arm's length from the heart of the operation. Three months earlier, Brennan had finally approached his old NYPD colleague, Fenton Hardy, for help, hoping for a fresh perspective from the PI.

Frank and Joe, who were in partnership with their father in the family detective business, had drawn straws for the role when the opportunity had arisen to go undercover. Frank had lost. And Joe was enjoying an unanticipated level of success.

Joe was playing the role of 'Max', a slightly unstable young man who thrived on violence, like a seasoned actor. He had 'run into' with Marley's heavies and befriended them. He had gained their trust. He drank with them, he gambled with them. He passed their tests and was introduced to Marley. And Marley had spotted that he had brains, not just brawn and a foul temper. He liked him. He let him into his inner circle and bragged to him. Joe's job was to laugh at Marley's jokes, punch faces and collect money. And information.

Frank had known that Joe would do a good job. All the same, he didn't know how Joe was managing to keep it up. He supposed the fact that the faces he was punching had all been criminals in their own right up to that point counted for a lot. And, until Boggs, Joe had somehow avoided being put in the position where he was expected to kill.

Frank had a sneaking suspicion that one of the reasons Joe's act was so convincing was that the character of Max, concocted between the brothers, was one Joe understood and could relate to with ease. Joe's girlfriend, Iola, had been murdered by terrorists eight years earlier, when the brothers were just in their teens. Joe had blamed himself, for all it hadn't been his fault. It had affected him deeply. He had become a loose cannon. His grief, guilt and fury had initially been channelled into capturing those responsible but, when that job was done, he was not sated. He had struggled for a while, lashing out at those who loved him and who had to strive to cope with his unpredictability and lack of interest in his own well-being. He'd got into fights, he'd disappeared for hours on end, he'd even come home drunk on occasion. His close bond with Frank had eventually pulled him back but the scars from that dark time ran deep in Joe's psyche. The ghost of what he had fleetingly become would never leave either of them.

Frank sighed deeply. 'I'll be happy when we can get him out of there, dad.' Fenton nodded. It was a high risk situation. Joe didn't have a back-up team waiting around the corner to bail him out at the drop of a hat. The length and complexities of the assignment made that impossible. But he did have a covert audio device on him- a bug. It was built into his watch. And the police, Fenton and Frank between them were ensuring the feed from it was monitored 24-7 from a dedicated room at Police HQ.

'Me too.' said Fenton. 'But he's doing a bloody good job. We've got enough evidence together to nail them on any number of counts. Murder, extortion, drug-dealing. If he can just get them to talk more about the Cincinnati connection we'll lock the lot of them up and throw away the key.'

Frank nodded. The police intelligence sources had indicated there were significant links between Marley and an influential criminal group based in Cincinnati. The nature and meaning of the link had eluded them and Brennan was determined it should be clarified before the New York group was shut down.

Fenton stood up, stretching. 'You want to keep monitoring for a while? I could do with a break.' he said to Frank.

'Sure. Any chance of a coffee?'

'Coming up, son.'

Frank sat back and listened as Joe and his 'friends' cracked open some beers. It was an activity they seemed to indulge in a lot. Frank felt an irrational twinge of jealousy. He laughed inwardly at his own involuntary reaction then speculated vaguely as to when he and Joe would get the chance to do the same.

…

Raymond Boggs was finally having a good day. He had been astonished to wake up in a hospital with a uniformed police officer sitting beside him. He had been more astonished when it dawned on him he wasn't dead. And when he was told he was getting moved to a safehouse, to be fed, watered and protected at Uncle Sam's expense, he thought all his Christmases had come at once!

He lay back in his comfortable hospital bed while a pretty young doctor gently checked him over. He looked at her chest lustily and smiled a dirty smile. He'd think about her again later.

He thought over everything he had been told since wakening. He was getting moved out of state, away from Marley and his heavies. He was to remain under police guard for an undisclosed amount of time. He wasn't to contact anyone he knew. His mind ticked over slowly. Marley thought he was dead. The police wanted Marley to keep thinking he was dead. Why?

He thought of the police officer who was seated by his bed. While he was giving his statement to the man, Boggs had said 'Get that blond one, Max. He's crazy! That bastard gave me cyanide!' The man's reaction had been far from that Boggs had expected. He'd smiled. Then he'd said 'If he'd given you cyanide you would be dead, Boggs. He gave you a sedative.'

'What? Why?' Boggs had said. The police officer had left the question unanswered. But Boggs had been clever. He had feigned sleep, listening into careless conversations between different police officers who came and went, finding out a lot more about what was going on.

Boggs smiled an unpleasant smile. The safehouse had sounded good. No one hassling him for money, no one hitting him. Three square meals a day, no doubt with ad lib donuts. But it was missing one very important thing. Smack. His scrawny body was started to remind him he needed some. And now he might just be able to get it for free…..

Eyeing his police guard speculatively, Boggs grabbed at his stomach. 'Aaaaah, aaaaah, it hurts! Get a doctor, please!' The officer jumped in up shock, dropping his book. He ran out of Boggs' room. Boggs launched himself out of bed and sprinted out the door, heading the opposite direction along the corridor from the officer, hospital gown flapping open behind him.

…

Boggs looked around him, trying to see if he was being followed. He didn't think so. He actually seemed to have got away! He'd made it to Lomax's apartment, managing to steal some clothes on the way. He'd never dared to come here in daylight before- he'd only ever been when he was rattling and had a pocket full of freshly stolen cash. But this was different! His mission was important! He knocked on the door.

After a moment it opened. Lomax stood, looking at Boggs in disbelief. 'What? But you're dead!' he exclaimed.

Boggs looked at the gun that Lomax was pointing at his gut and started to shake, his newfound confidence evaporating. 'I…..I need to see Marley. Where is he?'

'You _are_ a dead man, Boggs' growled Lomax. But he stood back from the door, waving Boggs up the stairs with his gun.

Boggs walked into the loft apartment, legs feeling like jelly.

'Boss? We have an unexpected visitor…..' called Lomax.

A portly figure, who had been sitting in an armchair facing away from the stairs, stood up slowly and turned round. Marley. The crime boss's cold voice seemed to cut through the clouds of cigar smoke in the room. 'Boggs. I'm rather surprised to see you. I was under the impression you were no longer with us.'

'Easily fixed' said Lomax, raising his gun again.

'Wait! No! I have some information for you. B-but I want my debt cancelled and I want smack. Plenty of it.'

Lomax and Marley's eyebrows just about hit the roof at the audacity of the man.

'Go on' said Marley, teeth gritted.

'Max? Your heavy? He's a pig.'


	2. Chapter 2

COLLUSION

CHAPTER 2- BLOWN AWAY

Frank and Fenton sat together in the surveillance room, headphones on, listening to the audio feed from Joe's watch. Joe was kicking back with two of his 'colleagues', Forrest and Campbell, drinking beer yet again, this time in a lock-up near the docks. Joe had been careful to slip details of his location subtly into conversation, to keep whoever was tasked with monitoring him up to date. Frank and Fenton listened intently. With Marley's men getting drunk and relaxing, the potential for Joe to draw gems of information out of his criminal cohorts was high.

Police Chief Brennan was in the same room as the two older Hardys, seated at a table against the opposite wall. He was briefing a group of officers who were to be involved in one of the planned sting operations on Marley. They were still holding off for one reason- the hope that Joe would be able to be clarify the link between Marley's group and whoever was supplying them in Cincinnati.

Frank was vaguely aware of a phone ringing behind him. Of Brennan shouting. Someone was getting it in the neck. Frank glanced round. Brennan was on his feet, addressing the officers around him. Two ran out of the room.

Frank and Fenton heard Forrest speak and refocused their attention on the audio feed. 'Did you see Boggs' face when you showed him that pill? Classic!'

Joe laughed, 'I know. Snivelling little shit. I wish it had made him scream though. He was so annoying he deserved a harder death than that.' Joe went on to describe some colorful ways they could have finished poor Boggs.

The other men laughed. 'You're sick, you know that Max?' Forrest's tone was approving.

At that moment, there was the sound of a car pulling up outside the lock-up.

Joe, voice full of enthusiasm, said 'That'll be Lomax. Now for some action! I want to get in on this Cincinnati thing he keeps mentioning.'

Fenton signalled to Brennan to come over and listen.

Brennan walked over and sat down, flicking the audio feed onto loudspeaker for the room. He sighed deeply. 'Guys, we may have a problem. It's Boggs.' Fenton and Frank turned to look at him.

Frank frowned. 'What about him?'

The moment was interrupted by Joe's voice. 'Lomax. What's the plan? You letting me in on the Cincinnati thing or what?' The men in the surveillance room turned their heads and listened intently. This could be it!

There was a pause. Then Lomax's voice came through loud and clear. His tone was cold and spiteful. 'The plan? Well, 'Max', that was the idea. However, we've changed our plans a bit. You're not getting in on anything. I've got someone here who owes you a great deal. He wanted to thank you in person.'

There was a pause. They could hear footsteps. Then Joe again, sounding shaken 'Boggs!'

Frank and Fenton exchanged horrified looks. What the hell was Boggs doing there?!

Joe's hard guy voice kicked in again- he'd got his composure back almost instantly. 'What the fuck! What did those bastards sell me? They swore it was cyanide.'

'Nice try, pig bastard.' hissed Lomax. 'So, boys, it seems this bastard is wired, has been the whole time! Seems we're going away for a lot of years, thanks to him.' He paused, then spoke again in a low, ominous tone. 'Seems one more murder won't make any difference. Say your prayers, pig.'

The men in the surveillance room listened in mounting horror. They heard a short scuffle. Joe cried out. Then there was a single gunshot.

'No!' Frank breathed, grabbing his father's arm. He could hear his own heart beating loudly. _Joe. _Had he been shot? Was he….?

Lomax's voice came through again. Cold. Business-like. 'Get rid of the body.'

For Frank, everything seemed to stop. He was aware of Brennan shouting 'Operation's blown. Everyone move, NOW!' He saw his father running for the door amid officers pulling on bullet-proof vests and checking guns. He could hear hear Lomax laughing. Then the audio feed cut out.

Frank couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't think. One of the officers put a hand on his shoulder. 'Let's go, come on, move.' He said gently but firmly. Finding his feet, Frank jumped up and ran out of the door after him.

…..

Frank and Fenton arrived at the lock-up ten minutes later, just behind the first wave of police officers. They'd fought their way through the New York traffic in record time.

Frank walked in first. He stopped dead when he saw blood pooled and splattered on the concrete floor. 'No' he whispered. He looked around frantically. Where was Joe?

Fenton walked past him. Lomax and Boggs were in the lock-up, handcuffed and in the process of being read their rights. Fenton walked straight to Lomax and grabbed him by the front of his shirt. 'WHERE IS HE?' he spat, his face inches from that of his foe.

Lomax smirked. 'Fuck you, pig.'

Fenton pulled his arm back and punched Lomax in the face, _hard. _'WHERE IS HE?'

Lomax spat out a mouthful of blood then looked up at Fenton. He grinned wolfishly. 'That shitface will be at the bottom of the docks by now. He's fish food.'

'Noooooo' screamed Frank, shoving past his father who had frozen in shock. He grabbed Lomax by the throat, flooring him, and squeezed his neck tight with both hands. 'No! Noooooooo!'

'Frank, enough' yelled Brennan. Frank didn't listen. He didn't care! The bastard had killed his brother! It took four police officers to pull Frank off him. The light of reason had gone from his eye. They pinned him to the ground as he struggled to get away from them, to get back to Lomax.

'Get him the hell outta here!' barked Brennan to the men with Lomax. The officers hauled him off the floor and dragged him out of the door, Boggs scuttling along behind.

Fenton kneeled down in front of Frank, who was still thrashing wildly, bent on breaking free. 'Let him go' he said, his voice low and strained. The officers moved back. Frank sat up and Fenton touched his chin, raising his face so their eyes met. Frank's face crumbled and he started to sob. Fenton held him close, his own tears beginning to fall for his murdered son.


	3. Chapter 3

COLLUSION

CHAPTER 3 COMING TO TERMS

Frank Hardy sat stock still, face expressionless. Now and then a tear slipped down his cheek, unchecked, unacknowledged. He was in a state of shock, disconnected from reality, feeling like he was watching everything from a great distance. Joe couldn't be dead. Joe was unstoppable. Whenever life knocked him down he bounced back up. Frank sobbed, tears coming faster. Not this time. Joe was gone. It was over.

It _shouldn't _be over. Not like this! No sitting by a hospital bed, waiting and wondering. No holding his hand. No goodbyes, no thank yous, no chances to say 'I love you- you're the best brother anyone could ask for and my very best friend.'

Just a gunshot on a tape, then nothing.

Frank knew if he so much as uttered his brother's name out loud, he would lose it completely and irretrievably. He wasn't ready for that. Not yet. He needed to see this to the end. He had to be here when they found Joe's body. He wanted to be the one to identify him. He wanted to be there for him, one last time. So he tried to distance himself so he could still function. His head ached with the effort of supressing the overwhelming emotions and unbearable pain boiling beneath the surface.

Frank was perched on a crate at the side of Dock 10, 200 yards from Marley's lock-up. Police had found Forrest and Campbell sitting here in a car shortly after Lomax's arrest. There was blood in their trunk. They had said they had already dumped the body in the sea. The police had taken samples of the blood from the car and the lock-up. But whose could it be but Joe's?

Forrest and Campbell, along with Lomax and Boggs, had been arrested and taken to police headquarters to be interviewed. Brennan's teams had gone ahead with the planned hits on Marley- his houses, his lock-ups, his clubs. The man himself was under arrest on suspicion of a catalogue of offences. The Cincinnati connection was lost, but the New York gang was finished. A victory for law and order. But at what cost?

Frank had been sitting where he was for several hours, watching police divers searching the sea. Slowly, methodically, they went down and came up. Each time one surfaced, Frank's guts were seized in a vice-like grip of dread. Would this be it? Would this be the time he would see a signal to indicate a body had been located? Then he would have to wait patiently for it to be retrieved, all the while wondering if it would be the bloody, bloated corpse of his beloved little brother.

Frank and Fenton had watched together for the first hour, the father's arm around his son's shoulders. When the divers hadn't come back with a body by then, Brennan had come and told them, kindly and sympathetically, that the men in the sea were reporting very strong currents working in the area. For all not much time had elapsed since he had been dumped, Joe could have been swept far out to sea. He told them Coastguard boats were being sent out to sweep the bay and beyond.

Then father and son had talked- about practicalities not emotions. Neither could think of broaching the subject of Joe. Of the impact his death would have on their lives, of the unfairness of it all. Of the unfillable hole Joe's murder would leave them to face and how much they would miss him. Instead they spoke about who would break the news to the family. Fenton wanted to be the one. Frank had agreed. He couldn't do it. Couldn't bring himself to speak those words, not to anyone. Despising his own weakness, he had said he wanted to stay. So Fenton had left, gone to tell their mother and their girlfriends, Vanessa and Callie.

So Frank sat alone, watching, waiting, not allowing himself to think, trying to force down the waves of agonising grief as they hit him.

His cellphone rang. He pulled it out and looked at it as though it was some sort of alien device. Callie. Again. Frank felt a pang of guilt. Callie would know by now. She would be hurting too- he wasn't the only person who loved Joe. He would have to answer, he realised. She shouldn't have to worry about him on top of everything else.

He found his voice. 'Hi'.

'Frank?' Callie sounded tearful. Frank's throat constricted. He couldn't do this….he couldn't have this conversation. It would break him. But she knew! She knew him completely and she saved him. 'Frank? It's OK, you don't have to talk. You're dad told us everything, I'm so sorry, babe. I'm at Vanessa's. I'm staying with her. I love you. Come when you're ready.'

A sob escaped from Frank's throat. 'Thanks.' He hung up.

Frank sat where he was until the divers stopped working. One of them came over, approaching him apprehensively. 'It's just too getting dark. We'll be back at first light. We're not giving up.' Frank barely heard him. Frank sat still, watching the sun setting on what had been the worst day of his life by an unfathomable margin. When the last of the light had gone, he sat in the dark.

…

Frank arrived at Vanessa and Joe's apartment in Bayport in the early hours, the realisation having hit him that Joe would have royally kicked his butt for not having the balls to go and hug Vanessa. No matter how hard it was for him, he knew it that it would be bad for Vanessa too. She and Joe were deeply in love and she had made him happier than Frank had ever seen him before. Frank would have loved her for that alone. The fact she was pretty, funny, freakishly strong, scarily intelligent and furiously loyal was the icing on the cake. To Frank, she was… good enough for Joe. That said it all. He owed it to Joe to try to be there for her no matter the cost to him- Joe would have done the same for Callie. But he would have been better at it. He could always find the right thing to say to a damsel in distress.

Frank looked up at the apartment windows. The lights were all on. He had expected that. Why would they be sleeping? Sick with nerves, Frank climbed the steps and opened the door, supressing the feeling he should knock for the first time ever.

'Hello?' he said gently.

'Frank!' Callie came running through to the hall and embraced him tightly. He let out a shaky breath and buried his face in her hair. 'It's OK, I'm here' she whispered.

Frank stepped back to look at his girlfriend of many years. She looked exhausted. Her eyes were red from crying. Her mouth was quivering with emotion. He put a hand up and stroked her face gently. 'How is she?' he said.

'She….she won't accept it.'

'What?'

'She just won't believe. She won't let herself believe it's true. I guess it will just take time. Come on, come through.

Frank walked into Joe and Vanessa's living room, carefully looking at the floor. Not at the photos. Not at Joe's car magazines. Not his crumpled football shirt or his favourite DVDs. He knew he had to look at Vanessa, though… He lifted his head. There she was, on the settee. Without Joe sitting by her, touching her affectionately, making her laugh.

Frank found he couldn't speak, he couldn't trust his voice. He looked into Vanessa's eyes, reading her anger, her pain, her denial. She hadn't been crying. How could you cry about something that wasn't true? Frank sat down beside Callie, unable to do anything but remind himself to breathe, fighting desperately to keep the agony in his soul supressed for just a bit longer.

The three of them sat together in silence, waging private battles with the enormity of the situation. Callie was the first to break. She covered her eyes and started to sob. 'God, I'm sorry, this is a nightmare! I just keep expecting him to walk in. It can't be real!'

Now Vanessa spoke. She looked right at Frank, beautiful eyes boring into his soul. 'So, Frank. Is it real? Is Joe dead?' he voice was calm.

Frank tried to breathe. This was it. This was the moment he would have to say it out loud. Then it _would_ be real. But he just couldn't bring himself to say 'yes'.

'I'm so sorry, Van' he gasped, his hands suddenly trembling, eyes filling with tears.

'NO!' Frank and Callie jumped. There was venom in Vanessa's voice that neither of them had expected. 'He's not dead until we have a body. He's _not _dead, Frank.'

Frank closed his eyes and covered his mouth with his hand, involuntarily replaying the last moments recorded by the listening device. Joe crying out in pain. The gunshot. 'Get rid of the body'. Every man who had been in that room with Joe had said they had thrown him in the sea. Joe's blood on the floor, in the car.

Frank looked at his feet. He voice shook. 'I don't want to believe it either, Van. But you didn't hear…'

'NO, Frank. I know what you're going to say. Tell me, did you _see_ him die?'

'No.'

'Have you seen his body?'

'No, Van, but….'

'_Shut up_. Do you trust the men who told you he was dead?'

'Well, no. Not for a second, but…'

Vanessa cut him off. Her voice was cold, angry. 'So all you have is the noise of a gunshot. That's it. You want me to write off the love of my life because you heard a gunshot? And you're willing to bury your brother, your best friend, because you heard a gunshot?! Is that right? Why aren't you out there looking for him? Did you ever care about him at all?!'

Callie jumped to her feet- Vanessa had gone too far.

Frank's temper snapped, his frayed emotions unable to hear any more. He walked over to Vanessa and shouted in her face. 'So, why was his blood all over the floor and WHERE THE HELL IS HE THEN, VANESSA!'

'Bastard!' Vanessa punched Frank square in the face. Frank staggered, putting his hand up to his eye. He looked down at his fingers. Blood. Shaking his head in disbelief, Frank turned and stormed out of the apartment.

As he reached the car, he heard Callie calling after him. 'Frank, wait!'

Frank stopped and turned round. Callie ran and caught up with him, pulling him into a tight embrace. 'Frank, you know she doesn't mean it, she's just hurting. Are you OK?' she whispered.

'No. No, I'm not. How can I be OK? How could this have happened to him, Callie? This was _not _meant to happen.' His voice was breaking. Aching for him, Callie held him close, feeling him trembling beneath her touch. He pulled away after a moment. 'Cal, I'm going to go for a walk. I need….. I just need to walk.'

'Want me to come?'

'Mind if I have some space? I love you. I just. I need….' He tailed off.

Callie put a hand on his cheek. 'I understand. I love you too. I'll stay with Van. Come back when you're ready.'

Frank closed his eyes and kissed Callie's forehead, then smiled gently at her, loving her for her compassion and her strength. Then he turned and walked away.

…..

Frank sat on the sand, a lonely figure on an empty beach. He watched the moonlight rippling on the calm sea. His walk had taken him to Barmet Bay, where he and Joe had swum, fished, surfed and sailed together during the long summers of their childhood. Joe had loved it here and Frank had gravitated towards it as if trying to recapture some sort connection with him. But he could feel nothing. He just felt numb. He gazed out to sea. 'Where are you, Joe?' he said softly.

Vanessa's words were ringing in his ears. _Did you ever care about him at all? _ Frank snorted. He knew Vanessa was just venting, but that really hurt. Joe had been the most important person in his life from the moment he was born to the moment he had…. Frank bowed his head and shut his eyes. He hardly knew how to go on. How did anyone move on after a loss like this? Was it even possible?

Vanessa's words went through his mind again. _Did you see him die? _No. _Do you trust the men who told you he was dead? _Absolutely not! But he'd heard Joe crying out. He'd heard the gunshot. He'd seen the blood. Every bit of evidence pointed to the same thing.

An image of Joe popped into Frank's head. Grinning broadly and joking, his blue eyes twinkling, his laughter infectious. He was the life and soul of the party, the eternal optimist. And now he was gone, leaving Frank's existence monochrome.

Overcome by an all-encompassing feeling of desolation, Frank broke down and cried.


	4. Chapter 4

COLLUSION

CHAPTER 4- THICK AS THIEVES

At first light, Frank was back at Dock 10. Seeing the divers were already there, going through their equipment checklists in preparation for a day's searching, Frank sat on the ground, leaning against a wall, ready to resume his vigil.

Son?' Frank looked up, shocked. He'd been lost in his own thoughts.

'Brennan. I didn't hear you….' He tailed off.

'Sorry, Frank. How you doing?'

Frank looked down. He didn't know how to answer that.

Brennan tried a different approach. 'What happened to your face?'

'Angry woman.' Frank smiled ruefully.

Brennan laughed dryly, amused. He eyed Frank carefully. 'Where's your father?'

'Home. He said he and mom needed some time.'

'And you?'

Frank snorted. 'How's time gonna help? Not gonna change anything. I'd rather be here. I want to be here if they find….' He stopped. His lip quivered and he bit it.

Brennan sat down on the ground beside him, turning to look out to sea.

'I had a brother.' He said. He laughed. 'Dave. He was…..annoying. But he was my brother. Killed in Iraq. It's shit. It doesn't get easier. You just get used to it. Used to not letting yourself think about it. That's the bit that takes the time.' He put a hand on Frank's shoulder. Frank nodded.

'I was wondering if you want to see the transcripts of the interviews with Lomax and the others. About what happened. Just so you know how it went down. Up to you. You know where I am.' Brennan got to his feet, patted Frank's shoulder one last time, then walked away.

Frank looked at the divers, then back at Brennan's retreating form. 'Brennan!' he called. 'I want to know now.'

…

Brennan showed Frank into his office, asked him to sit and poured him a coffee.

Realising by now conversation was going to be one-sided, Brennan pressed on. 'Right. Let me bring you up to date first. Marley, Lomax, Forrest and Campbell will go to court later today. I doubt they'll get bail. Hopefully they'll stay locked up until their trial, then go to prison for a very long time. Boggs is out on bail already- he came out of it looking more like a victim than a killer. He'll have crawled back into his hole by now.' Brennan paused. 'I have another bit of news. It's not good, but we expected it. The blood samples both came back as a positive match for Joe's. I'm sorry, Frank.'

Frank managed to nod.

Brennan slid a pile of papers over his desk to Frank. 'Here are the transcripts of Lomax, Forrest, Campbell and Boggs interviews. I'm sorry, I can't let you take them. But I'll give you some privacy.'

Frank nodded appreciatively. He didn't want an audience. His control of his emotions was spiralling and it hadn't been great to start off with.

Brennan got up and walked for the door. He paused for a moment and laid his hand on Frank's shoulder, before leaving, shutting the door firmly behind him.

Frank felt a tear running down his cheek. He had known the blood would be Joe's. It still hurt like a knife to the heart to have it confirmed. He sat looking at the pile of transcripts. Why was he doing this to himself? Why wasn't he at home with Callie, letting her hold him and comfort him, letting himself mourn his agonising, incomprehensible loss? He knew the answer. He still wasn't ready to let go, to grieve and try to find a way to move on. He had to keep himself going, at least until they had a body to bury.

Taking a deep breath, Frank picked up the pile of paper. Boggs' account was on top. He threw it to one side, feeling a surge of loathing for the pathetic man. _Bastard_.

Frank then flicked through the other transcripts. They all told the same story. Marley had been crossed. That only ever meant one thing- the person who crossed him would be executed. They had grabbed Joe, forced him down onto his knees. Lomax shot him in the head, then they wrapped him in a blanket with some bricks. They had stabbed the body a few times to try to stop it floating. Then they had tied up the bundle and loaded it into the car between them. Forrest and Campbell had driven the short distance to Dock 10 and thrown the body in the sea. 'Max' had sunk without trace.

Frank sat staring at the words describing Joe's last moments as told by the mouths of those who killed him. It didn't feel real. It felt like it had happened to someone else, not his little brother. He felt another tear falling and wiped it away angrily. 'Not now.' He murmured. He reached over for Boggs' transcript.

He told a slightly different version, obviously emphasising his lack of control over what happened. He had admitted blowing Joe's cover, but said he had no idea what the result would be. He had been 'horrified' by what they had done to Joe, apparently. Frank shook his head in disgust. He was about to shut the account when his eyes rested on one word. 'Concrete'. He re-read the sentence. 'They weighed him down with a block of concrete.' Frank flicked back to Lomax' testimony. 'We weighed him down with bricks.'

'Brennan!' Frank roared.

The man was back in his office in moments. 'What is it Frank? You okay?'

'Did you see this?' He pointed out the relevant sentences in the interviews.

'Yes. Of course. But that was the only inconsistency that came out in the interviews.'

Frank shook his head. 'Brennan, there's a _big _difference between bricks- plural- and chunk of concrete- singular.'

Brennan sat down across the desk from Frank, shaking his head. 'Frank, you have to remember it all happened quickly- very quickly. We had officers at the scene seven minutes after that shot was fired. There will be an element of confusion coming in to it. To be honest I'm surprised there aren't more inconsistencies. It happens Frank, it's normal. People misremember. Or make stuff up to fill in details they _don't _remember.

Frank said nothing. He got up, paced across the office then back to Brennan's desk. He slammed his hands down on the desk, looking Brennan in the eye. 'Sure, either that or the whole story is made up! Something else happened to Joe and they concocted this whole thing between them. They got their stories straight, every detail, before they were arrested so no one would suspect anything else was going on. But that idiot Boggs forgot one of the details. Right?'

Brennan sat in silence for a second, stunned. 'Frank, no. That is a big, dangerous leap to make on the basis of a one-word difference. We have any amount of independent evidence that supports their story. We all heard what happened on the audio feed, we saw Joe's blood. And…..and we've recovered a knife from Forrest's car with Joe's blood on it too- it all fits with their story. All the evidence still points to one thing. _Very clearly_. I'm sorry.'

Frank reeled momentarily at the news about the knife. Then he shook his head. 'No, all the evidence _did _point to one thing, Brennan. It doesn't now. Now there's a bit that doesn't fit. A bit that makes me think they're not telling the whole truth.'

'Oh come on, Frank, what are you trying to say?'

Frank put his hands on his head. 'I- I'm not sure. But if they _are _in collusion. If they _have _made up their version of events together, even just part of it, it must be for a reason. They must be covering up _something._ And if they are, I have to know what it is. Maybe… just maybe, they didn't shoot Joe in the head. Maybe…he could be alive. Maybe they… shot his arm or something.'

'Frank, no, that's crazy. There was no noise from Joe after the gunshot. He wasn't just winged. I know how hard this must be for you, but you're grasping at straws!'

Frank's voice began to shake again. He realised how desperate he was sounding. How…..unstable. 'Yes, you're right, I am. But can you blame me? If there's _any_ chance the fact that they're hiding is that Joe's alive. Any chance they've got him somewhere….how can I not grasp at that?'

Brennan shook his head again. 'OK, let's just suppose for a minute they have made up the part of the story about how they disposed of the body. Remember, that's the _only _bit of their accounts that doesn't match up. I do _not_ think they have made it up, let me make that clear, but let's just suppose. To me, that wouldn't mean Joe was alive. It might mean they'd disposed of his body a different way to stop us finding it.'

'Why?'

'They've admitted the murder. The only reason I can think of for them hide the body would be to cover up something bad. If they'd done something…..unusually cruel….. that could increase their sentences.'

Frank paled and gasped for breath. He sat down, hard.

'Frank, I do _not_ think that happened. Not for a second. We _heard_ what happened. It was quick for Joe. He didn't suffer. The point I'm trying to make is that, even if some of their testimony had been manufactured, it doesn't mean Joe is alive. _I can't let you think that_.'

Frank put his head in his hands. 'OK, ok. You're right. But I can't just let this go. I need to know the truth about what happened. _All _of it. You have to understand, Brennan, I'm not kidding myself. I know all the evidence. But Joe is…he's my kid brother. He's more than my brother. He's my partner, my best friend. I have to know what happened to him for sure. I owe him that. I have to follow this up.'

Brennan shut his eyes. 'Frank, I'm sorry this has happened. I regret showing you the interviews. But I'll support you. I don't know how you think you can find something new to pursue- we've spoken to everyone, we've got all the evidence. The case is cut and dry. But if you do find something….. I'll give you whatever you need.'

Frank nodded. He stood up and walked out of Brennan's office.


	5. Chapter 5

COLLUSION

CHAPTER 5- WEAK LINK

Frank Hardy was sitting in his car in a New York side street. His thoughts were dark. He was recalling a stormy night eight years earlier as if it were yesterday. After Iola's death and the subsequent downfall of Al-Rousasa, the man responsible for it, Frank hadn't been able to get Joe to open up to him, or even spend much time with him. Frank had decided to leave him to it, thinking he needed the space. One particular day, Joe had left the house on foot in a rage, after yet another argument with their father about him staying out too late and not saying where he was going.

Darkness has fallen and the weather had turned, but he hadn't come home. The family had gone looking for him. Frank had been the one to find him. He was sitting in the cemetery by Iola's grave, soaked to the skin, shivering with cold. Frank had gone over to him and put a jacket around his shoulders, then knelt down beside him. Joe's had looked…..lost.

'Is this where you've been going, Joe?' Frank had asked, gently. Joe had nodded, then turned to him, pain and fear in his eyes. 'I don't know if I can carry on Frank. It's too hard. I think I want to die.' He had started to cry. Frank had held him close, terrified by his brother's admission.

It had been a turning point. Frank had finally realised how much his brother needed him for all he'd been pushing him away. From that day on, Frank hadn't let Joe out of his sight. Together, they had fought Joe's demons and kept them at bay. Joe had grown strong again, as strong as the bond between the brothers.

And now Joe was gone, Frank truly understood the depths of the pain his brother had endured. He tried to look ahead in time. If the police found Joe's body, if Frank really was chasing shadows like Brennan seemed to think, it would be bad. He was terrified, sure that once he let go and started grieving, accepting what had happened, he would fall into the abyss of despair where Joe had once been. Maybe he was already falling. And he didn't know if he was strong enough to get back out.

His grim thoughts were interrupted. Raymond Boggs had finally come out of his apartment block onto the street. There was only one place Frank was going to go when he had left Brennan. He was going to have it out with the weaselly, two-faced little coward whose selfish actions had resulted in Joe's downfall. The man who, if the others _were_ in collusion, had been stupid enough to fuck up the story they'd come up with. The weak link in Marley's chain. He might have been able to lie in his police interview but he wasn't going to get away with lying to Frank. No matter what it took.

Frank got out of his car and followed him on foot, waiting for a chance to grab hold of him. Boggs wandered here and there, along busy streets, glancing in shop windows. He seemed to be going in circles, eventually ending up back at his building door. As he opened it, Frank saw Boggs looking back surreptitiously over his shoulder.

'He knows I'm following him.' Frank suddenly realised. Perhaps he wasn't quite as stupid as he looked. Frank ran into the building, no longer making a secret of his presence. He could see Boggs' feet as he ran up the stairs ahead of him. Frank sprinted up the stairs, trying to catch up with Boggs before he could get a locked door between them. He saw Boggs disappearing through a battered apartment door. He ran after him and kicked the door open as Boggs was trying to close it. Frank then turned and closed the door behind him, stopping to lock it. Boggs was trapped.

Frank turned and looked into the eyes of the little man who had done so much damage. There was no where for him to run to in the filthy little studio apartment. Frank saw red. He felt a rage he didn't think he could control. He clenched his fists and shook with the effort of containing it.

'We need to talk, Boggs.' Frank's voice was icy.

'Who…who are you? Why are you following me?' he hadn't recognised Frank from the lock-up.

'I guess you don't remember me. But do you remember Max? Remember what you did to him?'

Boggs stuttered. 'W-what, w-who?'

'That's right. The man that risked his life to save yours. The man you grassed on. He's my brother, Boggs. My kid brother.'

Boggs jaw dropped. He looked around frantically for escape, or a weapon. He spotted a kitchen knife and lunged at it. Frank was too fast for him, grabbing him and pinning him against the wall, his forearm across Boggs neck.

Frank, face twisted in hate, hissed in Boggs' face, 'I want to kill you. And I might well. I'll decide when you tell me what really happened to him.'

'I told the police already. They shot him. Dumped him. I'm really sorry!' Boggs' voice quaked with terror.

'And you saw it all?'

'Yeah. I-I tried to stop them.'

Frank lost it, yelling in fury at the outright lie. He punched Boggs, hard, in the stomach, then pinned him back against the wall, pushing hard on his neck. 'Shut up you poisonous little shit!' He growled. 'You want to explain why you said they weighed him down with concrete? The others said they used bricks.'

'I guess I didn't remember right. He's fish food, end of story. I ain't lying!'

'He saved you, you snivelling little bastard! He saved you and you grassed on him to Marley, you blew his cover! You're nothing but scum. He's dead because of _you. _All I want to know is what really happened. I don't give a shit about you and I _will _kill you if you don't tell me.' Frank realised with a start that he really meant it. He was prepared to destroy this man, for Joe. He no longer cared what happened to him. Frank, face a mask of pure hate, drew back his fist again, aiming for Boggs face.

'Aaaah, no, please, don't kill me! I…I know where he is. If you kill me you'll never find him!'

Frank stepped back as though he'd been slapped, hands dropping limply to his sides. '_What_?' he breathed. 'What do you mean? You mean where they put his body?'

'N-no. He might be alive. He was when I last saw him anyway.'

For a moment, Frank couldn't breathe. He could scarcely process what Boggs had said, let alone begin to believe it might actually be true. His shook his head, body trembling with adrenaline and shock. 'Boggs you better not be making this up, I swear, if you are…You talk. You talk _now_!'

'Marley's got him. When he realised he was going down because of him, he wanted him to suffer. Said shooting him would be too quick. But he didn't want anyone looking for him so he had Lomax fake the shooting. They threw that watch with the wire in it into the sea.'

'But the blood.'

'They slashed him so there would be blood, so it would look real. Then knocked him cold. Lomax shot the gun up into the roof.'

'Where is he, Boggs? Marley's in prison. Who's got him? Where is he!?'

Boggs spluttered, stalling.

'WHERE IS HE?' Frank stormed, shaking the man by his neck.

'Marley put him in the box!' Boggs squeaked.

Frank blinked in confusion. 'What? What the hell does that mean? Where?'

'It's just a box. He puts folk in there if they cross him. Said it feels like you're buried alive. But you can breathe. He leaves 'em till they go crazy. They showed me it, him and Lomax. Said that's where they were going to put him. Let him go mad and die slowly, all alone. If he's lucky he'll have bled to death by now.'

'WHERE IS HE?!'

Boggs shook his head, eyes bulging in fear.

Frank punched the wall behind Boggs and yelled unintelligably. Then he took a deep breath. He tried to speak calmly. 'Look Boggs, I don't give a shit about Marley, I don't give a shit about you and anything you've done. I will do ANYTHING if you take me to him NOW. You can fuck off out the country, I'll give you a car, money, anything! Just TAKE ME TO HIM!'

Boggs still didn't speak.

Frank grasped him by the neck again, reaching over for the knife Boggs had been trying to get to. He held it to Boggs' throat, hard enough to draw blood. 'OK, tell me or you die NOW.' He spat.

Boggs screeched, then blurted out 'OK, ok, give me car and all the money you got. I'll tell you where he is.'

Frank shook his head. 'No deal. Take me to him first.'

'Okay, okay, but you keep your word.'

'Yeah, I'm not the scum, Boggs, that's you. Let's go, NOW.'


	6. Chapter 6

COLLUSION

CHAPTER 6 – SPERO VOS LIBERATIM

Frank drove across downtown New York following Boggs' directions. Frank's heart was hammering in his chest, his guts churning, his emotions in turmoil. He didn't dare to hope it could be true. Joe could be alive!

Finally, Boggs pointed out their destination. An apartment building in a questionable part of town. Frank realised it could only be a couple of minutes' drive from the docks. He brought the car to a screeching stop and abandoned it, half on the pavement. He got out then went round to Boggs' side, grabbing him by the scruff of his neck.

'This better be real, Boggs.' He growled.

'It is, it is. Here, though here.'

Boggs led him through a side alley and round the back of the building, to a metal security door.

'I-in here. It's where Lomax stays. Some of the time anyway.'

Frank tried the door. It was locked. He kicked it. It wouldn't budge. 'Shit! _Shit_I' he exclaimed. He pulled out his cellphone, dialling Brennan's number. 'Brennan, just listen. I need officers here to help me get through a security door. Fast! Now! And an ambulance. There's a chance Joe's….there's a chance he's alive.'

'Frank….' Brennan began.

'Shut up! Just do it. You promised me.' Frank gave him the address and hung up before the man had a chance to argue. Then he felt a tap on his shoulder. He whipped round.

'Er…I don't know if this will help. It…. Er…. ended up in my pocket by mistake a while back.' Boggs held up a key.

Frank's jaw dropped in astonishment. It was probably the first decent thing Boggs had done in his life. He grabbed the key and stuck it in the lock. It worked! They were in. Adrenaline coursed through Frank, his heart beating wildly. He ran up the stairs inside the door, finding himself in a spacious, sparsely furnished loft apartment. Frank spun around, frantic. The apartment was silent. There was no sign of life. At the point of losing it completely, he grabbed Boggs by the shirt. 'WHERE IS HE THEN, BOGGS, WHERE! WERE YOU LYING?' he raged.

Boggs shook his head dumbly, pointed out a door at the end of the main living area. Frank shoved him away and ran to the door, tearing it open, revealing a small room, empty apart from one thing.

In the middle of the floor there was a metal box. Frank instantly knew he'd seen one before- on a documentary about how Navy Seals are conditioned to prepare them for potential captivity. Too small to lie down in, too small to sit up in- the boxes are designed to mess with your head.

The box was sealed with heavy duty metal clamps. 'Joe, Joe!' Frank shouted as he fought desperately with the fastenings. 'Joe?' His trembling hands finally got the clamps open. Frank threw the heavy lid open. And there he was! 'Joe!' Frank gasped. His brother was in the metal box, curled up in an impossible position, white and still. It was plain where the blood in the lock up had come from- there was a foot long slash wound on his right bicep. It gaped open, caked with congealed blood. Frank fumbled for his brother's pulse, but couldn't find it. 'Boggs!' he yelled in desperation 'Help me get him out of here!'

Boggs did as he was told, coming over and grabbing Joe by his knees while Frank tried to get his arms under his brother' torso.

'Jesus he stinks of piss.' moaned Boggs.

'Shut up, you little prick!' yelled Frank.

They managed to prise Joe out of the box and laid him out on the floor. Frank went down on his knees and felt for Joe's pulse again. He found it! Joe was alive! Frank sat down heavily on the floor, feeling weak with relief. He gently eased Joe over to him so his shoulders were on Frank's knees, his head cradled in Frank's arm. He was suddenly completely overcome, unable to believe what he was seeing. He looked down at his brother's face in utter astonishment, stroking it tenderly.

Suddenly, Joe's eyes shot open! He grabbed Frank's hand, pushing it away from him, and yelled out in alarm.

'Joe! It' OK, it's me! It's Frank!'

Joe, hyperventilating in panic, looked around him, dazed, squinting against the daylight in the room. A spasm hit him as his muscles, cramped into one unnatural position for so many hours, protested. He cried out in pain.

Frank tried to calm him. 'Joe, you're gonna be OK. Don't try to move. It's OK, there's an ambulance coming.'

Joe's darting gaze finally rested on his brother's face above him. 'What the hell took you so long?!' he croaked. Frank found himself half sobbing, half laughing, he was so completely overcome with relief. 'I'm so sorry Joe, but I've got you now. It's over.'

A small voice piped up from the other side of the room. 'Er..mind if I go now?' Frank had forgotten about Boggs. Frank dug in his jeans pocket and threw him his car keys. 'There's some cash in the glove box. Go. If I ever even hear of you again, I really will kill you.' Boggs picked up the keys and scuttled off backwards, tripping over his own feet on the way.

Frank turned his attention back to Joe.

Joe was shaking. Frank shrugged off his jacket and covered him.

'Frank? What happened?' Joe's voice was hoarse. Had he been screaming for help? Had he thought he'd been buried alive? Frank realised Joe's fingernails were torn and bloody. He must have been trying to claw his way out. Guilt flooded Frank as the reality of Joe's ordeal became apparent.

'Bastards just put you in a box Joe, trying to mess with your head. Right here. You never were buried. You're safe now. I'm so sorry I didn't get you out sooner, Joe. So sorry.'

'S'okay. My arm hurts' Joe tried to look down at it, then gasped in pain when his muscles reminded him he couldn't move.

'Easy Joe. You've been stuck in one position for more than day. Don't try to move. The paramedics will be able to give you something to ease it off. You're arm's cut but it's OK. A few stitches and it'll be just another scar to show off to the ladies. You're OK.'

'OK. Frank? I really stink. I must have peed. I-I'm sorry.' Embarrassment was threatening to add to Joe's list of woes.

Frank started to laugh. 'Joe, it doesn't matter. You have _no idea _how pleased I am to see you! You could have rolled in pig shit and I'd still kiss you!' Frank emphasised his point by planting a kiss on the top of Joe's head. 'Don't worry, we'll sort you out.'

'You're nuts.' Joe mumbled, confused.

'Same to you. I just…..I love you, Joe. I just wanted to tell you….you mean so much to me.' Frank suddenly started sobbing uncontrollably, the emotional rollercoaster he had been on for the last 24 hours finally catching up with him. He held Joe as tightly as he dared, turning his own head a little to try to hide his tears.

'Same here!' Joe was starting to come round a little, to feel more aware. 'What's with the mushiness? You hurt? You drunk?' he tried to move his head so he could see Frank's face better.

Frank couldn't help but smile through his tears at Joe's baffled expression. Admittedly, he was not usually one to wear his heart on his sleeve. He was sure Joe knew he loved him, but he didn't normally shout about it. Let alone cry about it! 'No. Not hurt or drunk. The bastards pretended they'd shot you and dumped you in the harbour. Totally had us fooled. We…..we thought you were dead.' He sobbed again.

Understanding dawned on Joe. 'Oh! OK, got it. I'm not though, so cheer up, please! I'd give you a hug if I could move! Can you pretend I'm giving you a hug? Frank? Please? You'll make me cry if you keep crying. I'm not exactly at my best right now.'

Frank smiled, shaking his head. 'Sorry Joe. I'll be OK, really, it's just all a bit much to take in. I can't quite believe you're real!' He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down for his brother.

'Frank, did Van think I was dead too?' Joe said suddenly.

'No. I mean, she was told you were. But she wouldn't believe it-she thought you were alive. And she hit me because I didn't agree with her.' Frank touched his bruised eye.

Joe grinned in wonder. 'Seriously? She gave you the shiner?' Frank nodded. 'That's my girl! Does she know I'm OK? Can you phone her?'

'God yes, let's do it, she needs to know. And Mom and Dad! And Callie!' Frank pulled out his phone and dialled Vanessa's number. 'Do you want me to tell her?'

'No, let me!' said Joe. 'Hold it to my ear, my hands aren't working yet.'

Frank heard Vanessa's terse greeting as she answered the phone. Joe's face broke into a broad grin on hearing her voice. 'Hi babe, guess who!'

Frank could hear Van shrieking in delight. He found himself grinning too.

'Yeah, Frank found me… Yes, I'm OK….. Just gonna get checked out…. Yeah, I'll call you in a bit, OK? Got a couple of things to sort out… Love you, babe, bye!' Joe looked up at Frank 'She's gonna phone round everyone, Frank. I can't believe she punched you.' Joe started to laugh.

'It's not funny! It hurt!' protested Frank.

'I should think so, I taught her. How'd you find me, Frank?'

'Boggs let something slip, made me think. I put some….pressure on him.' Frank looked a bit embarrassed.

'Frank….you didn't beat up poor Boggs, did you? That is so not like you!' Joe laughed again.

'I haven't been feeling much like me, to be honest. And I only hit him a bit. Anyway, you beat him up too! But I gave him my car and a hundred bucks too, which probably makes up for it.'

'Wait, did I hear that right….you gave away your _car_!' Joe exclaimed, spluttering with laughter.

Frank couldn't help but laugh with him. 'Yeah, so? Only because I was missing you and your sarcastic comments so much.'

'More than you'll miss that crappy car, I'll bet' Joe teased.

'That car was a great car!' said Frank indignantly.

'You wouldn't know a good car if it ran you over.'

'That's not what you say when you keep borrowing my 'crappy' car because your hunk of junk has broken down yet again.'

The brothers looked at each other and grinned, both knowing that their easy banter marked the start of everything being right with the world again. Frank bent down and rested his cheek on top of Joe's head, arms tight around him. He shut his eyes, suddenly exhausted but blissfully content. 'Jeez, Joe, it's good to see you.' He whispered. The sound of sirens drifted into the apartment. 'Sounds like our ride, little brother.'


	7. Chapter 7

COLLUSION

CHAPTER 7- EPILOGUE

Frank walked back into the emergency room waiting area. Joe had been patched up and plumbed in to some fluids, good painkillers and muscle relaxants. Frank had gone to buy some magazines and get a bit of fresh air while his little brother got some sleep. Their parents were on their way to the hospital with Callie. Vanessa was making her own way. They were due anytime and he wanted to be there when they arrived, to try to explain what had happened.

Frank was about to reach for Joe's door handle when the door opened. He stood back. It was Vanessa, on her way out. She must have arrived in his absence. Frank stopped abruptly. They stood, looking at each other. Vanessa closed Joe's door and walked over to the seating area, signalling to Frank to follow.

He did, sitting down beside her. Neither spoke for a moment. Then both tried to at once.

Frank smiled, embarrassed. 'Sorry, on you go, Van.'

Vanessa nodded. 'Frank, I was just coming to look for you. I'm so sorry I hit you. And for the cruel things I said. God, I'm so ashamed of myself! Thank you so much for finding him. I owe you everything.' She leant forwards and kissed Frank on the cheek.

Frank shook his head. 'You were bloody right though, Vanessa! You should have hit me harder and made me listen! I could kick myself. All the time I wasted moping, while Joe was in that box, just because I didn't stop to use my head and I didn't listen to you!'

'Frank, you can't blame yourself. You genuinely believed he was dead. I know what he means to you, no matter what I said. It must have been awful. I understand. And you got there- you got him back. He's going to be fine.'

Frank exhaled, sitting back. 'Yeah, he's OK. Thank God. Well, I doubt he'll be volunteering to climb into any confined spaces for a while after that…. He's laughing it off, of course. But if it has messed with his head, we'll be here for him, right?'

She took his hand in hers. 'Right. So, he'll be OK. But are we OK?'

'Van, it was me that screwed up. That's up to you. Are we?'

'More than OK, Frank.' She hugged him tightly, then stood up and took his arm. 'Now let's go see our boy!'


End file.
